


Old Wounds

by thealmostviki



Series: a-haunting we will go (ghost au) [2]
Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Angst, Bad Backstories, Car Accidents, Death, Dissociation, Gen, Human AU, Hurt No Comfort, I'm not fucking around anymore guys, Panic Attacks, This is the Real, but????, should be a given????, so like, um yeah this is a ghost au???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 00:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13178937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealmostviki/pseuds/thealmostviki
Summary: "I want to go home," Virgil said again, or at least he thought he did. He couldn't hear himself speak. Panic hadn't set in yet but he could feel it building, except he didn't have lungs to hyperventilate or a heart to beat wildly or skin to perspire. He was only feeling memories of these things, he wasn't real anymore he was dead, he'd died and he'd sat next to his body for hours doing nothing what kind of monster did that what kind of monster didn't care that they were dead?Or: Virgil is really not okay with how okay he is with being dead. It's mostly Roman's fault





	Old Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm back! I'm here!! It's been two months but I'm here!!
> 
> I've been writing this fic for like a week straight and honestly?? I'm iffy. I'm not used to writing things this way, in case I haven't complained about it enough. Starting at the end of a story and working backward is like,,,, super hard lmao. But don't worry I'll get better over time. 
> 
> This part is about Virgil, mostly because I've never written his POV and I thought it'd be fun. Spoiler: It's depressing. I've been thinking a lot about his death, which is the topic of this fic, and also about the mechanics of this world in general, so hopefully, I'm fleshing out those things better in this.
> 
> Heed the tags, please. Like, Loop was kind of angsty, but this is a lot more graphic than Loop. It's a ghost AU, guys. I'm sorry but people are gonna die. Next installment is fluff though, I promise. 
> 
> Like always, un-beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

 Virgil's own death hadn't bothered him much. Compared to Logan and Patton's deaths, his demise was mundane, ordinary. Car crashes happened all the time, after all, he'd known that even when he was alive. He didn't even get out of the car when he died. Instead, he'd sat in the passenger seat watching his own body bleed out, completely straightfaced. There was no loop, no destabilization, no moment of shock. It was one of the reasons Roman never liked him; he was messed up somewhere in his soul, too good at being dead. Aside from the moments of panic they all suffered, he was secure in his metaphysics. He didn't have Logan's irrational phobias or Patton's instability or Roman's strange aversions to dates and times and specific shades of blue. As far as he knew, that was a consequence of looping, a horror he'd escaped.

    Then he saw the SUV flip over the lane divider and he was trapped back in 2003, in the driver's seat of his car, dying all over again.

    Roman tried to pull him away but it was too late, it was already a wreck in motion. The wheels of the car caught on the ice and pivoted to the left. At the wheel, a man wearing dark glasses took on an expression of panic as he spun the wheel to right the car, but the rear wheels fishtailed out of his control. The vehicle swung tail-first into an intersection, and before the driver could catch his breath another car from oncoming traffic slammed into the passenger side door.

    Virgil's vision tunneled. Roman's hand gripped his arm but Virgil's feet remained rooted to the spot. All his joints locked, eyes frozen open in horror as he watched the car crumple like paper and skid along the road. A rear wheel hit the lane divider and the car teetered and flipped, skidding on its roof to the side of the street. The smell of gasoline mixed with the salt on the roadways burned Virgil's nostrils. Eerie smoke drifted out of the car window and solidified into a figure: a woman in her forties with dark hair and an expensive-looking coat. She opened her eyes and looked around, confused. Her boots left no footprints in the snow. Static roared in Virgil's ears as her eyes landed on the car with her husband's broken form and her own corpse.  

    She started to scream.  

    Virgil's throat closed up, his insides twisting, shifting into unnatural positions. Roman must've seen the panic on his face because he turned to face Virgil, making sure their eyelines matched up and Virgil knew he was being talked to. "Virgil, we have to go."

    "We-we can't leave her," Virgil stammered. "Her husband-"

    "There's nothing we can do. Someone will call an ambulance." 

    "She's already dead." A cold feeling started in his chest and spread outward, crawling through his veins his limbs felt both weighted and nonexistent. The woman was still staring at the wreck in horror, her hands covering her mouth as tears cascaded over her cheeks.What must that kind of distress feel like? It's not like he'd know. He'd sat there for hours watching his own body settle, staring at himself like a scientist studying a body, as if that wasn't his blood on the dashboard and his bones jutting at unnatural angles and his fingertips turning blue as the dead tissues froze.

    "She's already dead, Roman. We can't leave her. No one will...no one will help her. We have to help her."

    "I'll come back for her once you're safe."

    "Safe?" The word was odd on his tongue. The woman was still screaming, raising the hair on Virgil's neck. Roman forcibly turned his head so Virgil was looking at him and not the wreck but Virgil's vision was shifting in and out, making him dizzy and unsteady. The buzzing in his head was only growing louder but it still wasn't drowning out the woman's _screaming_ why did new ghosts _scream_ so much?

    "I want to go home," he said, his tongue too large in his mouth.  

    "Let's go home, okay?" Roman's lips moved but the sound was a whisper overlaid with darkness and the smell of iron and copper and cold metal crumpled at the base of the tree like a piñata emptied of all its candy.

    "I want to go home," Virgil said again, or at least he thought he did. He couldn't hear himself speak. Panic hadn't set in yet but he could feel it building, except he didn't have lungs to hyperventilate or a heart to beat wildly or skin to perspire. He was only feeling memories of these things. He wasn't real anymore because he was dead, he'd _died_ and he'd _sat next to his body for hours doing nothing what kind of monster did that what kind of monster didn't care that they were dead?_

    Roman reached out to him and Virgil took a step back, fear shooting up his spine. Roman didn't like it when Virgil acted weird. He was probably going to drag him away and scold him for dying in the street and making a scene. But he wasn't dying, was he? He was already dead. Roman hated that too. He hated being dead. Virgil was the only one who enjoyed it. That's something a monster would say. Only monsters were morbid and bloodstained like he was. Only monsters looked at their corpses and felt nothing.

    "Virgil, what are you talking about?" Roman asked, eyes wide and frightened, but Virgil didn't answer. All thought was replaced with the image of cars coming to sudden stops, busted engines, the crunch of metal, the snapping of bone. Home was supposed to be a million miles away in Albany, a place he hadn't been since he was nineteen and living. He couldn't go back there. He didn't even know where he was buried, hadn't paid attention when he'd followed his family to his funeral, hadn't seen the sign when he'd left without turning around. But god he wanted to go home. He wanted proof that this was real and not a nightmare, that he wouldn't wake up and find the past few years a dream, that he wasn't still sitting on an empty road in New York choking to death on his own collapsed lungs.

     Through his flickering and inconsistent vision, Virgil saw a sword materialize in Roman's hands. It was the long wide one, the one he used to hunt ghouls, the one he'd held to Virgil's neck eleven years ago because he'd thought Virgil was a monster. He was too good at being dead, too good at letting go. He'd never been hunted before but this must be what animals felt like in the moment before their pursuer catches them. He had nowhere to run. The wreck was still steaming behind him, in front of him, all around him, the woman was still screaming, Roman had something like fear in his eyes and fear only led to bad choices, mistakes, Virgil was a monster and he'd be better off alone, he should've taken Roman's advice eleven years ago and left when he still had the chance. His vision whited out, and then there was nothing. 

 

 

   Virgil didn't wake up so much as become aware of his body again. He wasn't sure how long he'd been floating in the graveyard, but night had fallen during the duration, so it had been at least a day. A light haze muddied his thoughts but it wasn't any cause for alarm. He'd never gone into shock but he'd seen it happen to other ghosts when they saw their tombstones or faded photographs. They glitched out like computer programs,  vibrating as energy shot out of them like lightning. It was more than a little disturbing to watch, and he now knew-not pleasant to undergo.  

    Roman was really going to have his head for this one.  

    He pulled himself up and dragged himself to the city. The closer he drew to town the harder it was to keep a stable form, especially as he approached the street where the accident took place. All the debris had been cleared and the new snow covered any skid marks, but the broken lane divider peeked out from under a drift, a crack running down the point the car had slammed into it. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the flickering pallor of a shade taking root, possibly the woman from the crash, but he didn't look at it too closely because he didn't want to know. If Roman hadn't gone back for her, that wasn't Virgil's mistake to correct. New ghosts exhausted him anyway, especially ones that weren't worth saving. They screamed too much.   

    Before he could even raise his hand to knock on the door of their house thumping sounded from inside and Patton swung the door open with such enthusiasm that Virgil fell back onto the rotted deck.

     "Virgil!" Patton said, leaning down to help him, but like Roman's did, Patton's hand fell right through him. Patton's eyes widened and he stepped back, giving Virgil the space to stand up.

    "I'm okay," he said, but his voice echoed around them, splitting and spreading through the thick night air. Roman loomed behind Patton, watching them warily. It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he was tired of Roman watching him like he's was an it instead of a person, and that he should've taken his out and left when he had the chance.

    "I shouldn't have come," he realized too late, voice flickering in and out. "I should go back to the cemetery."

    "Cemetery? Why were you at a cemetery? Please, Virgil, just come inside. You look terrible." 

    "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come back. I should go." His voice broke in more ways than one, emotion overriding his shame.  _Too good at being dead,_ Roman had said. _Maybe you should go haunt your hometown like the creeper you are._

     "Virgil, you belong here with us," Patton protested, only growing more confused. "What are you talking about?"

    "Patton, you should come back inside," Roman suggested quietly, but Patton didn't turn around.

    "No! This is ridiculous!" Patton's expression twisted more and more with each passing second and a knot of guilt solidified in Virgil's throat.

    "Patton, I'm sorry, I-"

    "Do you know how long you've been gone?" Patton demanded. Virgil shook his head wordlessly. " _Two days!_ You've been gone two whole days! We thought you'd _vanished_ or something! Roman said you looked like you were _disappearing._ "

    "I'm sorry. I went into shock." Virgil hugged his arms around himself as the same cold feeling spread through him. "I would've warned you if I thought it would happen to me."

    "You knew this was going to happen?" Roman asked, stepping forward.

   Virgil opened his mouth to apologize again but Patton whipped around and gave Roman a sharp look. Roman crossed his arms and clamped his mouth shut, and Patton made a displeased sound in his direction.  

    "It's been a tense few days. We're all a little bit wound up, myself included. Virgil, you should come in and get some rest and tell us what happened."

    Virgil gnawed on his lip. The idea of rest appealed to him, but the idea of stepping into the house did not. His eyes flittered between Patton and Roman's faces and he flexed his fingers in his sleeves, preparing to turn around and walk away. "No, I think I'd better-"

    "Virgil...listen, I-I wanted to apologize." Roman's voice was uncertain in the way it always was when he admitted wrongdoings, but the words themselves were enough to make Virgil pause.

    Virgil froze. "For what?"

    "For...threatening you, if I may." A horde of melancholy and guilt accompanied Roman's words. "I didn't mean to scare you or make you think I was trying to do you harm. I'd never hurt you, Virgil. Surely you know that."

    "It's fine, Roman," Virgil said, waving away his words. "You had every right."

    Roman clenched his jaw. "No, I didn't. I'm supposed to protect you, not make you fear for your life. That's my job."

    "No." He felt weighted somehow, too tired to be having conversations like this. "My wounds were bleeding and I was flickering and it...it didn't look good. And I'm not your responsibility. If anything, I'm a liability."  

    Since his death, Virgil hadn't had many fears. Now that the threat of death was gone, a lot of other worries seemed non-permanent. Unimportant. When he was alone, before joining up with Roman and Patton, Virgil could escape any situation that got too heated. He could go to a different town or country and run from his problems the way he'd always wanted to when he was living. After meeting up with the others, all that had changed. He couldn't skip town whenever he wanted. He couldn't piss off other ghosts in town for the fun of it. He couldn't magnify himself or amplify his voice or walk around without glamours because those things were "monstrous". It was what ghouls did.  But despite Roman's beliefs, Virgil wasn't a ghoul.

    _Yet._

    "Don't say that," Patton said fiercely, approaching Virgil despite his obvious unsettlement at Virgil's continued intangibility. "You're as much a part of this family as anybody else." 

    "I know," he said, but even he heard the nervous lilt in his voice. "I just mean that he was right to draw his sword. I didn't explain what was happening. The only logical conclusion would be that I was turning into a-" 

    "Don't." Virgil had never seen Patton so serious. "Don't even suggest it. You'd never."

    "Might I interject," Logan piped up from behind. He'd been obscured by Roman, standing far back by the staircase to avoid the charged air of the threshold. "That if you were vanishing into thin air then explaining your predicament may not have been an immediate concern for you?"

    "And you do look unwell," Patton continued. "And not because you're see-through. Since Logan came you've been looking better but now you just-" He cut himself off and let his harsh demeanor drop. "Please come inside. I...I want you back home. I just want everyone back home."

    Home. The word rattled around in Virgil's head, misplaced and unfamiliar. He didn't think home was supposed to feel so much like a fishbowl.

    "I'm sorry, I can't," he said, hoping he had enough false bravado to hide his internal shakiness. "I can't- I should wait until I'm calmed down. You even said I looked horrible."

    "Virgil, don't-"

    "I'm not leaving," he assured him upon seeing the panic on his face. "I swear I'm not leaving. I don't even have anywhere else to go. I'll come back in the morning when I'm not...like this." He gestured to his flickering arms.    

    Patton still looked hesitant. In the background, Logan's eyebrows were pinched in concern. Roman was still looking right at him, worry written all over his features. The emotion was misplaced on all of them. Virgil was sure of it. He was at best a nuisance, at worst a legitimate danger to them. This had proven that. No matter what resentment Virgil held toward Roman for treating him as something lesser, he couldn't deny the facts. He closed his eyes and he could hear the woman screaming again, see the blood on the road and the blood on his own body both laced with frost.

    "It's not safe," he said, the words fractured as they fell out of him. "Roman is right. You should go back inside. I'll come in when I'm more...tangible."  _When I don't look like I'll suck the life out of anyone who touches me._

    "Swear it," Patton demanded, voice choked.  "Swear you'll come back."

    Virgil tried for a smile but he knew it wouldn't reach his eyes. "I'm coming back. I swear." Then he disappeared before he made any more ill-advised promises.  

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up anytime at my tumblr!-[@astralbone](https://astralbone.tumblr.com/)


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